Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

The Spring Equinox is a time to play,
While the sun is up and throughout the night...
From 1pm 'til midnight the following day
We'll jam our words – release our insights ....

This is the place to Jam.
The thread will be unlocked when we begin.
Enjoy the bloom of verse ....
It is a garden. Dig it. Dig in!

the loam is expanding
sensing the Spring
not knowing
if it's a hope or a memory.

lika sprout exposed
creeping from the seed
a sleeper cell for life

Spring reaches
a tender tuber
just below the surface

my carrot gone a'seedin
wheat fields shining berries
high looking storks prevail

when spring chuckles from under socks
and toes begin to sense freedom
words loosen their collar

wet-t-shirt poetry

What is the life expectancy of Spring?
The shelf-life of a blossom.
an ambitious sprig of green?
It's only Summer's temptation.

the UPS man arrives
with my New Hadgini
Udu drum right at 1:00
and now the jammin's
really begun....YAHOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!

in quiet corners while flowers reconsider
my cherry blushes
his acorn anguishes
their sage hyssop scent and beckon
it's a conspiracy to make sit up and take notice
it's a set-up to force me to slow down
it's a frame, i tell ya
and i'm afraid i'm cavin in

there's a wired, bearded fellow
lining up the sheet music
bouncin off crescendos and fortissimos

if it weren't for the shirt hangers
i might never know he's home

Hookah cafe bouncin'
off the casa walls and
me keeping time, acoustic
the majors and minor's diggin'
Carole Jean watering the pansies
and me wanting to tap the
water vessel time....where is that
flute...gotta have that Lightnin' flute...........

If CJ plays the ocharina
We got a marimba band for hire
Flashy vest
wild brimmed sombrero
lost in downtown Chicago
got no ocharina player

maybe fly on down
Virginny, there's
a far out old fart wails
down that way, by the
banks of the Potomac
listen what I say..............

an old fart
harp playin dock strayin
west virginny dude
hair on crooked
and legs to match
if ya dare git close
you better hold yo nose
that dude plays a helluvan ole fart
while he wails his harp

that's why I likes
my machines Raagini
and Riyaz just hummmmmmmmm...Raga........
knockin' ya scents...less..............

somebody's whisperin secrets
there's a djembe hinted message
flying on the wind
no scent, yet
but soft waves of western sea patrol
anchored in a bad eminem riff
lost at sea

when the tables are loaded
and the floorspeaks
ya dance
and ya take the swirls like they wanna be made

and you jump into the syncopated moments
with the vigour of the lone dancer
in a faceless crowd

some body
somebody finds a daisy in the grass
growing
a symmetrical white design punctuating green
the soft, loose, powder-yellow centre
a thousand little pinpricks
protected and promoted
by a dozen little petals

some body
somebody plucks a daisy from the grass
gently
a gentle little thing in between caressing fingers
the fingers twirl, spin the flower by its stem
a blur of virginity and morning
a condensed sunrise centre
and a frame of satin clouds

some body
somebody slips a daisy in their mouth
slowly
it lies just inside their lips
a soft taste of spring time
un-dressed salad
and then
the stem is removed
slowly
slowly
slowly as to tickle the lips
the daisy disappeared
and slips down somebody's throat.